


Castle on a Cloud

by Kalael



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, that title is purely self-indulgent, yay family bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Seraphina kept Kozmotis sane, and the one time she didn’t.</p><p>(Part two of Lindz' birthday present from me, which I can post now that ch. 1 of her Koz fic is up.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castle on a Cloud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lindzzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Things that Were](https://archiveofourown.org/works/765184) by [Lindzzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/pseuds/Lindzzz). 



He is a grownass man and he can make his own damn life choices, thank you very much, and if those life choices involve sprinting down the gangplank to his daughter then he will damn well do as he pleases.

He definitely ignores the exasperated looks on his crew’s faces as he bounds down the plank, dodging the men moving supplies to shore and even leaping over an unfortunate sand-person who had stopped to pick something up.

And Seraphina, daddy’s girl that she is, has broken free of her nurses and hiked up her skirts to run as quickly as her little legs will carry her.

What a sight they must make every single time Kozmotis’ ship reaches home. Seraphina screeches, bird-like and laughing, as Kozmotis grabs her and lifts her into the air. He uses her momentum to spin them around, Seraphina held above him as they both laugh.

And then he trips over his own boot and they tumble to the ground, cackling and covered in dust as everyone rushes to check on them. It’s good to be home.

 

\--

 

They both hate the opera and they spend the majority of it making fun of the actors on stage and mocking the audience members that sit below them. They have their own box, of course, set to the side away from prying eyes rather than up front like the attention-seeking society people.

Seraphina scrunches up her nose and puffs out her lips in an imitation of a woman sitting in the box across from them, and Kozmotis has to choke back a snort when the woman in question gives them the dirtiest look. Seraphina is her spitting image and it is not a pretty sight.

All of his efforts to keep from laughing are wasted when the actress on stage sings a note so high that Seraphina claps her hands over her ears, the movement knocking over a tray of glasses and shattering them.

The opera is awful but at least they’re never bored.

 

\--

 

He can’t stay forever. They both know that. Late at night, when Seraphina should be sleeping, she sneaks into her father’s study and stands by his armchair. Kozmotis has fallen asleep with a book on his chest and his hands are stained with ink. He tries so hard for the Lunanoffs, for the galaxy, for _her._

She puts a small hand on his face and traces the nose that they share. He twitches, snores, and the book slides onto the floor.

Kozmotis wakes up with Seraphina curled into his chest. He moves just enough to get them both comfortable, his arms wrapped around her, and falls asleep once more.

 

\--

 

Goodbyes are never easy, they both know that very well. Kozmotis kneels down and allows his daughter to place a crown of flowers on his head. No one is watching them, no one is laughing. They know better than to intrude on this moment. Kozmotis presses a kiss to her forehead, holds her tightly to him and takes a shaky breath

then lets go.

Seraphina doesn’t cry. She always waits until the ship is out of sight before she hides in her nurse’s skirt and sobs.

Kozmotis never cries, but he stares in the direction of the port until the crew calls him away.

 

He won’t be back this time.

 

\--

 

The flower crown has wilted in his hair but he keeps it anyway, petals falling into his eyes as the plants weaken and the stems begin to break. They grow soft and slide from his head to his shoulder, and each time he places it back until eventually it falls apart in his hands.

It’s a reminder of how much time has passed, how many days and weeks have gone by since he left, and although it’s not pleasant it’s the only thing he has left of the old days.

A portrait in a locket keeps the nightmares at bay and Kozmotis presses the metal over his heart until the locket has warmed with the beating in his chest, and this is what gets him through the nights when the flowers have turned to dust.

 

\--

 

It’s her voice that undoes him.

He’s a dead man walking, every step heavy as though he is weighed down by lead.

The doors open and she is s c r e a m i n g 

then there is silence

 

but

 

_Who was screaming?_


End file.
